


Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

by mariana_oconnor



Series: Tumblr fic [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky's getting married, But it's purely for Avengers purposes, Deaf Clint Barton, Getting Back Together, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reunion, Sign Language, Sign Language used for espionage purposes, Spies & Secret Agents, Weddings, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 21:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13960074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana_oconnor/pseuds/mariana_oconnor
Summary: Clint's mission is to stop the wedding in any way he can. He didn't realise the groom was his ex. It's been three years, but some people you don't get over that easily.





	Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

**Author's Note:**

> [loonyloopylisa](https://loonyloopylisa.tumblr.com/) prompted me on tumblr in response to a [prompt list](https://mariana-oconnor.tumblr.com/post/169165907991/390-prompts). #1 was ‘A wedding?”, and this went a really weird direction. Posted without betaing or even reading through, so it’s probably pretty messy. I have no idea what’s going on in this AU. Clint works for SHIELD, Bucky and Steve… don’t?

When Clint had received the assignment, to be honest, he’d thought they’d given him Natasha’s job by mistake.

“A wedding? You want me to stop a wedding?”

“I don’t repeat myself, Agent Barton,” Fury had said, steepling his fingers together as he’d leaned back in his chair. “Myself and Agent Coulson selected you for this task. Are you doubting our ability to do our jobs?”

Clint shot a look over to where Coulson was standing, quite calmly, at the side of the room. His face gave nothing away.

“No, sir,” he said, his voice a little hesitant.

“Good, and we don’t doubt your ability to do yours,” Fury said.

A long pause filled the room.

“So, go do it.” The words had barely left Fury’s lips by the time Clint was rising from his chair. Sometimes Fury was like that, he had a tone of voice that made it very clear that if you disobeyed him then your next performance review was going to be your autopsy.

But he’d taken the assignment and run with it, because what else would he do?

Of course, now. Now he understands.

Of all the weddings in all the land, Clint had to be told to stop this one. At least he knows now why Fury had been so convinced that this was his mission. And also why the name of the poor schmuck marrying the terrorist had been so conspicuously missing from the file.

James Buchanan Barnes is half-way through pinning on his buttonhole. He’s wearing a suit that probably cost Clint’s whole paycheck and his eyes are open comically wide as his mouth forms Clint’s name.

“Fuck.” Clint says with feeling.

He then proceeds to call Fury and Coulson a number of very specific names. Coulson, who is definitely listening over his earpiece, does not say anything. The bastard.

Clint does not want to be here. Fuck them. He knows SHIELD is willing to use everything at its disposal to get the job done, but not  _this._

“Clint? What the fuck? What are you doing here?” Bucky’s approaching him quickly, reaching out his hand to grasp at Clint’s arm. “Fuck… you can’t be here. Shit. It’s been three years.”

Three years since SHIELD fucked him over last time and the lies and the secrets had become too big for their relationship to handle.

“Hey Buck, how you been?” he asks, shuffling his feet. Bucky’s mouth falls open. “Looking good.”

He does look good. The suit’s tailormade to fit his shoulders and his waist and… other parts of his anatomy that Clint probably shouldn’t be looking at anymore. The sight of him actually makes Clint’s mouth go dry. Or maybe that’s just the situation. If he gets out of here alive then he’s going to murder Coulson.

“Clint, I don’t know how you found out about this, but you’ve gotta get out of here,” Bucky says. “If they find you here they’ll-“ he cuts himself off, looking to the door, and Clint frowns, because that’s not the face of someone who’s worried that their fiancée’s about to find their ex in their dressing room ten minutes before their wedding. That’s the look of someone who’s scared in a life-and-death sort of way. Clint is intimately familiar with that expression. He’s spent years schooling his face to no longer use it unless he absolutely has to.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that,” Bucky says. “I don’t see you in three years, and you show up on my wedding day?”

It’s a valid point, but Clint’s used to reading people, he’s used to reading Bucky. They were together for almost a year before everything fell apart. They’d moved in together. Clint knows Bucky, even after 3 years.

Then Bucky’s fingers start to move, first a little hesitantly - he probably hasn’t had that much reason to use ASL in the past 3 years - but then with more assurance.

“Clint, now’s not the time. Trust me. You need to get out of here. Please,” he signs. His face looks as close as Bucky gets to frantic.

“I heard you were getting married,” Clint says out loud, while his fingers ask if there are bugs. He sees Bucky’s eyes widen. “I had to see you.” Bucky nods, once. They are being listened to. “I made a mistake, three years ago. I shouldn’t have slept with Sam, but I was scared of how much you meant to me.”

Bucky frowns, but he picks up the thread of the lie.

“I meant so much to you, you slept with my friend?” he says. “It’s over, Clint. It was over 3 years ago.”

“Why are you here?” Bucky signs. “Why are you lying? Why are you carrying a gun?”

Right, Clint had forgotten about that.

“You can’t mean that, Bucky. We were good together,” he says. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Look,” he signs, simultaneously, “I know that you’ve got no reason to trust me. But I’m not a delivery man. I never was.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow and wraps his arm across his stomach. “This had better be good.”

“I…” shit, Clint knows what he’s got to say now. Knows that he never said it while they were together, not out loud, anyway. “I love you.” Fuck, he hates that he still means it. You’re supposed to move on, get over it. He’s never quite managed that. At the same time he signs: “I work for a secret organisation, called SHIELD. I didn’t have clearance to tell you. I’m a spy… sort of.” Bucky blinks. “Look, you’ve probably never heard of them. Officially we don’t even exist”

He’s signing too long, there’s too much silence, but it makes sense after what he just said.

“It’s too late to say that,” Bucky finally responds. And he pulls his hand back up and signs: “I’ve heard of SHIELD.”

Clint’s brain stutters. He can’t have understood that right. Bucky’s not…

“Shit.” Bucky says out loud.

Oh fuck. If Clint just fucked this up. What if Bucky was never who he thought he was? What if Bucky was always a plant? What if the best relationship he ever had was actually based on a pack of lies? Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s not just the bride that’s a bad guy.

It’s not the first time Clint’s slept with the enemy, but it’s the first time it’s meant something more.

“Did SHIELD send you to kill me?” Bucky signs, looking almost resigned to the idea.

“Should SHIELD want you dead?” Clint asks, assessing his exits. The window he came through’s a better bet than the door.

“Not that I know of,” Bucky responds, his fingers tripping a bit over the words in his agitation. “Why are you here, Clint?”

“They sent me to stop the wedding,” Clint responds, telling the truth because he can’t think of a lie that would make things better. “The bride’s a terrorist.”

“I know.”

“She wants to use your access to Stark Industries.”

“I know,” Bucky responds again. Clint feels his stomach drop away in despair, then he starts, looking at the door, and Clint can just pick up footsteps. They look at each other, eyes wide, and Clint darts for the wardrobe, ducking as he darts in, so he doesn’t set the hangers rattling.

The door closes behind him, leaving him in darkness, and he is very aware that if Bucky, or whoever it is, decides to shoot him through the door, he won’t even see them pull the gun.

“Bucky?” a voice asks loudly, and Clint’s shoulders relax just a little. He knows that voice, even with his dodgy hearing and the door muffling it. That’s Steve’s voice. He’s probably the best man. Clint feels a little pang in his chest at the thought, as the ideas that he’s been trying to ignore come back full force.

Because there had maybe, at one time, been a little part of his head that thought ‘perhaps’. And he’d maybe thought that one day, years away, he might actually make it. With the rings and everything. And it would have been him that Bucky was preparing to marry.

But three years and a life of lies, secrets and terrorism will screw that up for you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” Steve asks. Then his voice lowers and Clint can’t make out the words anymore. Apparently the SHIELD techies didn’t plan for ‘wardrobe door’ when they were upgrading his hearing aids.

A few seconds later and the door to the wardrobe swings open and Clint, crouched down in the corner, looks up – and up – into the rather pole-axed expression on Steve Rogers’ face.

“Hi Steve,” he signs. “Fancy meeting you here. What are the chances?”

Steve opens his mouth, then seems to think the better of it and signs back, Clint’s name sign.

Clint clambers out of the wardrobe and looks around at the pair of them.

Steve is looking between the two of them.

“You picked a really bad time to try and win him back,” Steve signs.

“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe,” Clint signs back.

“We can’t stop the wedding,” Steve signs to Bucky. “We’re way too far into this. If we stop it now, she’ll get spooked and we won’t have another chance like this for years.”

One of the things Clint sort of loves about signing, is that exaggeration is practically encouraged, so when he signs “what?” in both their faces, he does so as broadly and obnoxiously as he can. “You guys aren’t… helping her?”

“Fuck no,” Bucky signs back immediately. He looks offended. Ah well, at least he’s not a terrorist who Clint has to kill. There’s a bright side to everything. He turns to Steve and signs “He’s with SHIELD.” Steve looks at Clint as well now, startled.

“But,” Steve starts, then shakes his head. “Right. That’s… unexpected.”

“So you want to stop them too?” Clint signs.

“Yes, we’re…” Steve pauses and looks at Bucky, who shrugs. “We’re sort of…”

“Freelancers,” Bucky signs. “We’ve been trying to get closer to AIM for years, and this is our best shot. We know that she’s involved, we want her boss.”

Clint facepalms, because the information they’re looking for is the information he just spent the last two days reading. Technically, it’s confidential information.

But technically, he’s been given licence to do whatever the hell he needs to in order to stop this wedding taking place.

“In that case,” he signs before putting on his best shit-eating grin, “you’ll love your wedding present.”

“Is that so?” Bucky asks, his mouth tilting up into a smile. It’s the same smirk that used to accompany all his flirting, so it makes sense that Clint’s heart’s Pavlovian response to it is to beat double-time. God he wants to kiss that man.

“Just one condition,” he signs. “No wedding.”

“You’ve got information on AIM?” Steve asks.

“SHIELD has information on everybody,” Clint signs back with a shrug.

“And you can give it to us?”

“If it stops this wedding, I can do pretty much anything,” Clint signs. “Although I’m supposed to avoid casualties if I can help it.” Bucky looks at him again, up and down, like he’s thinking things through. Clint ignores him as best he can, although he feels weirdly naked under the gaze, even with the body armour under his clothes. “So, what do you say? Wanna run away with me?” he signs, trying to put on more confidence than he actually feels.

Bucky huffs a little, then looks at Steve.

“The wedding’s due to start in two minutes, Buck,” he says out loud. “We should really get going.” But he nods to the window.

“I guess I should leave,” Clint says, following his cue, but before he heads to the window he pauses. Because SHIELD probably won’t be very happy at him just giving away this information, and they’re not that fond of ‘freelancers’ running around.

Aw, shit.

He hates lying to Coulson. But if he’s gonna do it, he’s got to sell it.

He pulls half his shirt out of his pants and tugs the jacket askew, crumpling the sleeves a bit. Drags a hand over his hair to make it look even more dishevelled than usual.

“What are you doing?” Bucky signs as Clint comes towards him with grim determination.

“SHIELD thinks I’m seducing you away from your fiancée,” he points out, then tugs at Bucky’s waistcoat. One of the buttons pops off.

Bucky blinks.

“Right,” he says, his voice is a little unsteady, and their faces are very close now, with Clint pulling at his cravat and shirt tails. They stare at each other and Clint’s aware that his hands have stopped moving. Bucky takes one of them and pulls it up to his hair, which is neatly tied back. “OK,” he says.

Clint tugs the hair tie off. He can’t quite work out what’s going on, and he can feel Bucky’s breath on his face like tingling. He can smell him, and of course he’s wearing aftershave – it’s his wedding day – but Clint hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected the swooping sensation in his stomach at the warmth of standing so close.

No, bad Clint. No boners allowed. It’s been three years. This is business.

He pulls away and ruffles Bucky’s hair as casually as he can.

“We need to go,” Steve says.

“It’s my wedding,” Bucky replies. “They ain’t gonna start without me.” But his eyes never leave Clint, and his hand rises up to sign “there’s just one thing missing.” Then it’s reaching out to grab Clint’s collar and reel him in.

Their faces collide, Clint’s eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, and his mouth ajar.

The kiss sweeps over him, and it isn’t fair that after three years Bucky can still make his knees go weak like this. Or maybe it’s because he’s lost his resistance.

Fuck. He has no idea what’s going on, but fuck it. If he gets shot by terrorists, then he’s going to die having kissed Bucky Barnes one last time.

Bucky’s hand finds its way to his ass, groping at him, and Clint returns the favour, because why the fuck not.

Then Bucky pulls back, his face flushed, smirk firmly in place as his gaze flicks up and down, taking in Clint’s state – half-hard and half-debauched on top of that.

“Now it’s believable,”, he signs, and Clint swallows as Bucky strides past him to the window and swings himself out. Clint looks at Steve for some sort of indication, but Steve just grins and pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he says, before heading for the window as well.

Clint scrambles after them, his mind still spinning, as his body works on automatic.

His higher brain functions don’t kick in until he’s back in his hotel room and Coulson’s telling him over the earpiece that he can report in tomorrow, he confirms, and pulls the earpiece out, flicking the switch to turn it off.

Steve’s phone goes off a second later, he looks at the screen and swears.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asks. He’s definitely made himself at home on the bed, his shoes are off and his jacket’s flung over the back of a nearby chair. “I thought that ended pretty well, considering. I’m not married to a terrorist, for one.”

“We left Sam,” Steve says, his head flopping down into his hands.

“Sam’s a freelance spy too?” Clint asks, before shaking his head. “Of course he is.”

Bucky seems to consider this for a moment and shrugs.

“Yeah, it ended pretty well,” he repeats with a smirk. When he sees the tight expression on Steve’s face he sighs. “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. And if he were actually in trouble you’d already be out the door.”

“I should have stayed,” Steve says, looking disappointed in himself.

“Probably,” Bucky agrees. He flicks the channel again. “You gonna go check on him?”

“Uh…” Steve’s eyes dart between Clint and Bucky. Clint tries his best to look as non-murdery as possible. Bucky, on the other hand, seems to go with the opposite approach.

“Go check on Sam, Steve,” Bucky says.

“Right, I’ll go and… check on Sam,” Steve says, backing towards the door.

Clint doesn’t know if he’s grateful for the privacy or whether he’s terrified of it.

Both, he’s gonna go with both.

“Before I forget,” he says, calling out to Steve, terror apparently winning out for now. “The information.” He reaches into the pocket of his go bag and pulls out a USB drive. “I’ll have to make a copy, SHIELD don’t like it when files go missing, I can do that now.”

“No,” Steve says hurriedly, cutting him off. “Take your time. Give it to Bucky. He’ll… He knows what to do with it. Right. I’m... Bye.”

And then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him with a bit more strength than was really needed.

“I guess we need to talk then,” Clint says, turning his back on Bucky because he’s not really sure what his face is doing right now, but he’s willing to bet it’s not good. He scratches at his hair a little. He needs a trim. No doubt Natasha will remind him soon enough. If he did it on his own she’d probably think he’d been brainwashed.

He starts going through the stuff in his go bag. He’s not looking for anything, and he knows exactly what’s in there, but he can’t think of anything else to do other than looking at Bucky.

“Guess we do,” Bucky says finally.

Without the earpiece, Clint’s down a hearing aid as well. He keeps a spare set in the side pocket. He should get them.

“You gonna look at me while we’re talking?” Bucky asks, suddenly very close. Clint’s fingers find the hard metal of his hearing aid case and he pulls it out.

“Thought maybe you’d prefer it if I could hear what you were saying,” he says, straightening up and summoning all his courage to turn around and look Bucky in the eye, waving the little purple case between them. Bucky shakes his head and lifts his hand.

“I don’t need you to hear, I just need you to pay attention,” he signs. “Quit stalling.”

Clint hunches a bit. He is not ready for this talk. The carpet of the hotel room is a sickening shade of beige, he stares at it. Bucky’s hand appears in his vision and touches his chin, gently, tilting his face up again to look at him. Clint could fight it if he wanted to, but there’s something so soft about the touch that he can’t quite resist it, and when he looks up, the same softness is reflected in Bucky’s smile.

It’s not an expression he uses often, or it hadn’t been. Maybe he’s more open now. But three years ago, that look had pretty much been reserved for Clint, in the private moments, when he was being particularly idiotic.

His stupid heart is starting to hope again.

“Hey,” Bucky says out loud, before returning to ASL. “So you’re a spy?”

“Mostly,” Clint signs back. “I do what SHIELD needs me to do. I couldn’t tell you before, it wasn’t…”

“I get it,” Bucky signs, cutting him off. “I didn’t have clearance to know. I was in the army. I know what top secret means.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Clint admits. He’d been about to file the paperwork when everything fell apart. “I was going to.”

“Well now I know.”

“Three years too late,” Clint signs, his hands moving in vicious little swipes, angry at himself and the world.

“Who says it’s too late?” Bucky signs, his smile growing a little. Clint frowns at him. Bucky reaches out to poke Clint in the shoulder, then pulls back to sign again. “I missed you.”

“Are you seducing me to gain access to SHIELD?” Clint asks, because he’s not an idiot, and the guy was willing to marry a woman to get the job done, less than an hour ago. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs, signing even as he does so.

“All I’m trying to gain access to right now is your pants.”

“Is this a rebound?” he asks aloud. His hearing’s still all uneven and weird, it makes his face scrunch up. Bucky’s eyes open, his forehead crinkling in confusion. His hand jerks up and down in the ‘what’ sign. “You just jilted your bride at the altar,” Clint points out, slipping back into sign again, now Bucky’s looking at him. “I’m not an expert on these things, but less than an hour is pretty quick.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want sex?” Bucky signs, blunt as always. There’s something about watching his hand form the sign for sex. It shouldn’t actually be sexy, but it’s making things fizz in Clint’s brain.

“Last time we did this it… ended badly.”

“Last time we did this, you were keeping secrets and I was a mess,” Bucky points out. It’s true. They’d met when Bucky was barely out of hospital after being honourably discharged from the army. To be honest, the whole thing had been a beautiful clusterfuck of a relationship.

“At least you were a hot mess,” Clint responds, then frowns again, because maybe Bucky’s got himself together a bit more, but all the problems with Clint still apply. He is not relationship material. He’s barely drunken fuck material these days. “ _I’m_  still a mess. I’m always a mess. And I can’t stop keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, well I’m a mess too. And now I know why you’re keeping secrets. And… Clint.” He says Clint’s name as he signs it, and Clint has to put his non-mission hearing aids in soon, because he needs to hear Bucky say his voice properly. “I missed you,” he repeats. Bucky shifts a little uncomfortably, and his face is open. He means what he says, he’s biting his bottom lip in a distracting sort of way. And Clint’s fed up of being responsible. He’s never been any good at it anyway.

“I still remember how to do that thing with my tongue,” he says. Bucky blinks, and a smile grows across his face. “It’s been a while though. I could do with a refresher.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky takes a slow, deliberate step forwards.

“Gimme a sec to change my ears out and you can help me with that,” Clint says, waving the purple case again.

“You don’t have to,” Bucky says, lifting his hand up to Clint’s ear, not quite touching, just close enough for heat.

“And miss how great you sound when you’re moaning my name?” Clint asks aloud, quirking an eyebrow up. “I don’t think so.”

“I can guarantee you’ll have other chances,” Bucky tells him, curling in even closer, his voice low. They’re too close for sign language, now.

“How about,” Clint assesses Bucky for a second. He’s put on some muscle since they split up, but it’s less about mass and more about levers anyway.

Natasha would be proud if she knew how well he used her lessons, swinging Bucky’s body weight over in barely a second, sending him crashing, back first, onto the bed. Clint pulls back quickly while Bucky’s still adjusting to the new position.

“How about you get comfortable, and I get my ears in,” he says, leering as best he can. It makes Bucky laugh, which isn’t exactly what he was aiming for, but it’s been way too long since he’s heard that laugh, so he’ll take it.

Clint’s halfway through switching out his aids when something hits him and the dark wool of a pants leg flops over his shoulder to slide down his arm. He grins. Responsible can wait for later, he’s got a lot of wasted time to make up for.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at https://mariana-oconnor.tumblr.com/post/171088246206/are-you-taking-prompts-for-the-drabble-challenge


End file.
